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“Your class must be cool though,” Leo says. “Any of them writing about your field?”
“Actually … yes,” I admit. “One is working on something pretty close to my own studies.”
I don’t want to talk about Avery. I don’t want to think about Avery. I was doing so well, but the only truthful answer to Leo’s question is that Avery is researching exactly the sort of things I’m here for. I might not be trans, but gender presentation and how people express themselves along that spectrum has always been a special interest of mine. It doesn’t just mean people like Avery. It’s also the blue collar guys I grew up around, the queer men at the one gay bar a few towns over, the teenagers growing up in that small community but with ample access to the internet. Every time they get dressed in the morning, whether it’s for work or school or a date, they’re making conscious choices about how to present themselves to the world.
“Hey, that’s awesome,” Leo says. “You could mentor them. That’s gotta be exciting.”
Maybe a little too exciting.
“Yeah,” I say mildly. “It’s interesting. They have some fascinating ideas they’re planning to chase down.”
“Like?”
“Well…” I feel the words piling up, feel my ability to hold them back breaking down. “They want to do all this research on gender presentation in society, but there’s only somany historical documents on that kind of thing. The language for it has changed a lot over time, and there’s certainly been periods where certain types of expression were outlawed, explicitly or implicitly.”
“Right, right, makes sense.”
“So they were thinking of going to a drag show,” I say. “Maybe even interviewing performers.”
“Whoa, okay, that’s awesome. And so far above and beyond. You must love this student. They’re as nerdy about this stuff as you are.”
Leo laughs, but every muscle in my body tenses. Avery is indeed every bit as passionate about this topic as I am, perhaps moreso since it’s got a personal component for them. And that’s kind of the problem. If they were just an attractive person I met, it’d be one thing, but their mind is even more enticing than anything else about them, and that’s the part that’s truly dangerous. I could talk to Avery for hours. I could go to that drag show with them and experience things that have resided purely in the realm of theory for me. My entire queer universe has been books, the internet and one lonely gay bar up until now, but I know that if I follow them, I’ll experience so much more.
I want that far more than I should let myself want that.
I love my hometown, but it was certainly a sheltered experience. Scared as I am, I do want to experience more of my community. I do want to take advantage of all the queer bars and shows and events and community out here.But letting Avery be my guide through that would be … dangerous.
“They want me to accompany them to the drag show,” I say.
I don’t know why I’m telling Leo this. Maybe it’s been stuck in my head so long that I need to say it out loud and let someone else tell me I’m crazy.
But Leo doesn’t say that. He says, “Oh, that sounds cool.”
“Does it?” I glance over at him. “They’re a student. Isn’t that a little inappropriate?”
Leo shrugs. “It’s just a drag show.”
“I thought those shows were kind of raunchy.”
Leo laughs and pats me on the shoulder. “Man, I keep forgetting how small that town you grew up in is. I mean, yeah, they can get raunchy, but even I’ve gone to a drag show, and I’m straight. It’s not porn, dude, relax. It’s like lip syncing and stuff. It’s fun.”
“I just worry about how it would look if someone from the university saw me at a thing like that with a student.”
“Why? You’re just going to a show. It’s not a big deal. I promise. And you really should get out more. This seems like a perfect excuse.”
It does. It really does. And Leo’s reassurance makes me want to say yes so badly that later, after the leftover pizza is tucked into the fridge in tin foil and I’m in bed staring atthe dark and unable to sleep, I fumble around on the floor for my pants, then dig out my wallet and that phone number secreted away inside it.
Even as I tell myself I’m an idiot and a fool and worse, I put in the number and type out a simple message:I would like to go to a show some time. Just tell me when and where.
My hands are shaky when I muster the courage to hit send. I toss my phone on the floor without waiting for a response and turn onto my side, throwing the covers over my head like that will hide me from what I just did.
Chapter Nine
Avery
THE PERSON AT the door stamped my hand with a red X when I showed my ID, but at least I’m allowed inside. I sit nervously near the back of a crowded room that’s clearly usually a dance floor. Folding chairs line up in rows with a lane down the center, all pointed at a makeshift stage with a curtain hanging before it.
I bounce my leg, but it’s not the drag show I’m nervous about. I check my phone, but there’s no update since I sent Diego the time and location for this and he responded with a simple “thanks.” I haven’t texted since then, too afraid that any excess communication will scare him off. It’s a miracle he accepted the invitation at all, as terrified as he is of our every interaction. No matter how innocuous, he always looks like he wants to run.
